


Choked

by Cultivation



Series: Ashes [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Angst, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), Comfort, Darth Maul Needs a Hug, Drabble, Holidays, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Council Bashing (Star Wars), Life Day (Star Wars), M/M, Mentioned Ahsoka Tano, Mentioned CT-7567 | Rex, Mentioned Mace Windu, Mentioned Satine Kryze, Mentioned Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, Minor Character Death, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, in a metaphorical way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cultivation/pseuds/Cultivation
Summary: After Anakin sacrifices himself to kill Palpatine, Obi-Wan is left to pick up the pieces of the life he led at his side. Lonely and stricken with grief he discourages any praise for his efforts in the war, gives up his place on the Council, and loses his connection with the Force.And on Life Day— desperate to not be alone— he visits Maul in the Spire.Surprisingly, a conversation ensues.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Maul, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul
Series: Ashes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064831
Comments: 14
Kudos: 104





	Choked

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thank you to my dear friend and beta, [skittykitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty)!
> 
> Just for clarification, Anakin shows up before Mace and his Jedi posse and kills Palpatine by throwing him out the window.
> 
> Now, into the fic...

Obi-Wan knows this is stupid,— beyond idiotic, _truly_ — but there isn’t much else for him to do. Normally, the holiday would have been filled instead with either Anakin mewling, a mission given out by the Council, banter between Ahsoka and her master, or banter between the Clones. Between Anakin and Ahsoka, Obi-Wan’s hands were full. Cody and the Two-Hundred and Twelfth would have given him absolute hell. Altogether, it would culminate in a week-long headache. Before, a getaway from the commotion and pace of it all would have been a luxury. He would have given anything for some peace and quiet.

Now, Obi-Wan cannot stand silence.

He felt his death in the Force before he was ever told. Rippling electric pain could be heard in echoes. The familiar sound of broken glass, the _whish_ of unforgiving wind, the marching steps of Jedi footsteps approaching the office, the murmurs of Jedi stumbling upon the scene, and the stoic voice of Master Windu promising secrecy for something forbidden to Jedi. Then, he felt him disappear entirely, leaving behind his robes and his lightsaber. 

Cody and several other men had held him steady as, all at once, his legs went numb and the waves of his signature vanished altogether. For many hours he could barely speak. A few Clone soldiers tried to give him water or talk but it was no use. Obi-Wan was paralyzed with shock— and something he was never supposed to feel: grief.

For so long, he had relied on Anakin to be there for him. He was a constant in Obi-Wan’s life and the only person who seemed to stay (despite his flaws and tribulations). The same could not be said for Ahsoka, his master, or his soldiers. They were all gone, either permanently or by choice, and they had no intentions of coming back as they were before. Qui-Gon and Satine were dead, Ahsoka left the Order, and the Clones attained freedom. And Anakin… he wasn’t coming back either.

An emergency gathering was called at the temple for all available Jedi. Grand Master Yoda sat alongside Mace Windu who recounted the tale. Chancellor Palpatine a secret Sith, a devious plot to overthrow the Senate itself, and a pointless war were all laid bare. Obi-Wan listened intently. Other Jedi watched him as Anakin’s ultimate fate was revealed. His selfless sacrifice for the sake of the galaxy wasn’t the Jedi he knew. He knew Windu was lying without ever having to say it. Padmé’s holo after only confirmed his suspicions. 

Despite the gravity of the news, the Order seemed relatively satisfied with this result. They narrowly avoided a coup and took down a scheming Sith Lord for good. The Clone battalions rejoiced in their newfound freedom and the cessation of the Confederacy. The war was over for good and yet… he could find no joy in it. In its place was a hollowness that hadn’t been there before. A black hole sucking any accomplishment for all of his actions. As soon as he could, he escaped the temple and met with Ahsoka to give her the news as well. His hood drawn and eyes watering, Ahsoka didn’t say much. She only said she’d be arriving with Maul shortly.

The Jedi and Council were quick to transfer Maul to the Spire, overturned to the Republic just before the war’s end. The Mandalorian vault would be his traveling cell. Despite all of the feelings the Sith once drew out in him, Obi-Wan felt empty at the sight of him. Satine would have mocked him for such thanklessness. Ahsoka was quick to sneak away with Rex to a storage crate (quite like Anakin would do to speak to Padmé). Obi-Wan wanted to tell them every detail— to be the strong one through the devastation. It didn’t quite go as planned; before he could finish, Obi-Wan froze entirely. Ahsoka and Rex understood and gave their condolences. They were patient enough to wait for him.

_“It’s okay, Commander.”_

_“Anakin was a great man… and an even greater teacher. Be proud of him, Master. He is one with the Force now.”_

In hindsight, he should have known his next actions would be irrational. Shortly thereafter, he retired his seat on the Council and remains elusive to the Order. He is sure Windu, Koon, and Mundi will exchange words about it in private but he gave it no attention. His attention is stuck immovably within a void. Emotions come to him strongly while peace seems out of grasp. His connection to the Force has been shaken violently. Obi-Wan simply isn’t the man or the Jedi he used to be. It seems foolish to continue on when he has done nothing of late to deserve his rank. Even younglings show more competency than he does right about now. There are babies that hold more ability than he could ever possess.

It was the very same sleepless night, after talking with Ahsoka and Rex, that her guards found him. Quickly, Obi-Wan was escorted out of the temple and taken to a medical base on Coruscant. He watched a widowed Padmé give birth to twins. Luke and Leia were sent off to Naboo on her special orders while Obi-Wan saw to it personally that the Council did not interfere. Both babies radiated power in the Force much like their father, but their facial features were indistinct. They would have to grow older for Obi-Wan to see any physical similarities. Padmé grieved with both babies against her chest. It was a sight Obi-Wan was sure to add to his growing list of sorrows. Then, he watched as the light in her eyes— once so iridescent and bright— faded.

She too was no longer the same person she once was.

None of it explained what he was doing now. Perhaps it is out of sheer curiosity. Perhaps it is desperation. The more likely answer is Obi-Wan is alone. It is by choice, on a relative scale. He could spend the holiday with Padmé on Naboo or wherever Ahsoka and Rex are. But, he just _can’t_. Everyone reminds him of Anakin; they all drudge up old memories and new emotions Obi-Wan yearns to move past. He yearns to move past the cavernous hole of spiraling grief and relentless regret. He yearns to say more to Anakin than he did. They haunt him and mock him at every turn. If he had been honest— right then and there— would it have changed anything? If he had told Anakin of his own attachments and fears with nothing to lose, would it have mattered? The answers will forever elude him.

_“You are strong and wise, Anakin, and I am very proud of you.”_

Pride is a bitter word on his tongue. Pride is what kept him on the battlefield instead of debating the Council’s decisions as he should have. Pride is what kept Anakin from his rightful place on the Council. Pride is what allowed for Sith machinations to almost reach the light of day. Pride is what could have killed the Order and destroyed the Senate. And pride is what guided Obi-Wan’s ignorance. He was a Jedi Master and that had _meant_ something; he had stood for justice, democracy, and peace. It means nothing to him now. The title feels more like a dead weight on his shoulders than anything else. Years of training, dueling, and meditation was sapped from him in an instant. What stands in their place is an unexplainable heaviness. A heavy, empty, and hollow void. He is no Jedi. He is _barely_ a functioning person.

The Spire looks much the same as it did during the Clone Wars when Anakin infiltrated it. Snow layers the spiral building, freshly-fallen. Here, Maul is being held for trial. The Republic has yet to settle itself and thus delayed his trial for months to begin the process of picking up after the war. Obi-Wan recognizes the newly stationed Jedi here and tries his best to avoid making contact with them in any way. Their lingering gazes are enough to irk him. He slips by many of them on his way to the previously Clone-operated visitor area. The man sitting behind the transparisteel doesn’t bother making eye contact with Obi-Wan. His eyes scan a holo-monitor he can’t see (not anymore at least). Instead, he waits for the obligatory—

“No visitors are permitted during Life—” Obi-Wan reluctantly pulls down his hood.

“I have permission.” The man double-takes and nervously pulls at his collar, mouth agape. 

“Master Kenobi, I’m— I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you.” 

“It is... quite alright.” The change of attitude in his presence is still something he is unable to understand or deal with properly. This officer is merely a representation of all those who have praised and commended his actions in war. Obi-Wan dwells on those actions every day and wonders what all of it was for. He wonders whether Anakin’s death could have been prevented if the war had never begun in the first place. He stays awake at night with the knowledge that all the clones— all the _men_ — that died under his command to fight a meaningless battle could have been saved if only the Jedi were bright enough to sense a Sith lurking amongst them. If only Obi-Wan had been a better teacher, Jedi, and brother to Anakin… would the Council have trusted him? He wouldn’t feel the need to go alone. He wouldn’t have ever felt so utterly _alone,_ so terribly—

“Sir?” Jolted out of his thoughts, he clasps his hands together tightly under his draping sleeves and politely forces a smile. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where my head went—” Obi-Wan grinds his teeth momentarily and licks his lips. The officer seems to quietly understand whatever blockage that has come up; it’s the same one that silences himself without warning. The very same one that paralyzes him in place. He’s lucky to have hidden it from sight. “What was your question?”

“Who are you here to see, Master Jedi?” Silently, Obi-Wan curses himself.

“I don’t remember his serial number at the moment—”

“Name then?”

“Maul.” A brief pause occurs in which the officer gives Obi-Wan a very specific look (one he’ll certainly reflect on later as “perplexed”). It disappears faster than he can account for with the blaring interruption of admission. 

“Any weapons on you?” He hasn’t carried his lightsaber on him since Anakin died. 

“No,” he answers honestly. The officer doesn’t look as surprised as he should be. For all intents and purposes, the public still recognizes him as a Jedi. 

“Then, you’re good to go. It’ll be the cell at the very end of the corridor and to the left. Have a happy Life Day.” 

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan nods curtly and steps through the security measures. Yet, just as he does, he can hear the officer’s parting words. 

“Sorry for your loss.” If he could cease breathing, he might as well. Instead, his feet keep moving forward towards the growing darkness. The further he travels, the more he feels as if he is walking through a sea of sludge. He could turn back now and isolate himself for the rest of the day. He could do anything else. But he knows he has to do this— whatever this is. Obi-Wan does not linger a moment longer than he has to. He passes through the doorway, the barrier igniting behind him. 

It is dark enough that Obi-Wan doesn’t see him at first. Maul sits in the corner of the cell, farthest away from the light. His body is shrouded in shadow, only parts of his tattooed skin peeking out with the light’s touch. He doesn’t seem interested in moving or doing much of anything. There is a distinct apathy radiating from him. Perhaps, he doesn’t care that Obi-Wan is here. Perhaps, Obi-Wan is okay with that. Everyone seems far too keen to address him and acknowledge him— and his Padawan. It’s refreshing to hear none of the normal sentiments… yet the quiet still disturbs him. He wants Maul to speak— to say _anything_. He doesn’t have to wait long. 

“Who are you?” Maul asks dejectedly. For a moment, Obi-Wan freezes. How could he not recognize his Force signature? Then, all at once, it clicks; he hasn’t connected with the Force for some time. Maul’s neck cranes up. His fire-ringed eyes pin him in place. “Kenobi?” 

“The very same.” Maul stands immediately and circles him. Confusion and rage simmer just below the surface as he observes Obi-Wan. 

“Why are you here? Have you come to mock me?” 

“No,” he answers. He hopes the sincerity of it bleeds through. “I want to… _talk_.” Maul’s face twitches, baffled.

“I will not give you anything—”

“I am not here for the Council.” Maul scoffs and crosses his arms. 

“Then, Jedi business. I assure you Sidious’ machinations were not—”

“Do you ever shut up?” Obi-Wan snaps. “I am here for no one but myself.” It is strange to see how his outburst affects Maul. He seems to revel in Obi-Wan’s moments of rage. A Sith trait, he is sure. 

“Feisty, are we, Kenobi?” He goads further. “Anything to do with your precious Skywalker?” 

_“What will happen to me now?”_

“Kenobi?”

_“The council have granted me permission to train you. You will be a Jedi, I promise.”_

He leans his back against the wall as his legs give out. Obi-Wan stares blankly from the ground. Maul observes him like a Master to a Padawan, curious and— it isn’t quite _concern_ but rather something far more complex. Worry, more like. Perhaps, it is the worry that his enemy will end himself rather than be killed by Maul’s hand. Whatever it is, Obi-Wan can’t focus on it. The only thing his mind wants to pay attention to is the memories he’d like most to forget.

_“Obi-Wan… may the Force be with you.”_

“Snap out of it.” Maul pauses, towering above him.

“ _Goodbye, old friend. May the Force be with you.”_

“Kenobi!” Maul yells. Obi-Wan’s eyes snap upwards. If Maul’s expression is anything to go by, he is visibly disgusted. He offers a hand to Obi-Wan. The gesture is so absurd that it takes a moment before Obi-Wan can do anything but gawk. “You will not wallow in my presence. I won’t allow it.” Cautiously, he grasps his hand and pulls himself back to his feet. 

“This is far beyond wallowing, Maul, but I thank you for your concern.” Maul bares his teeth in annoyance. A period of silence occupies the space between where Obi-Wan tries to think of words. He desperately reaches the ends of his mind for anything to say. He finds nothing; his mind is as barren as his outlook. He swallows harshly as Maul stares him down. “I would like to say I had something specific to discuss with you, but I’m afraid that would be dishonest.”

“I think I have one,” Maul says snidely. “Why have you cut yourself off from the Force?” The Sith smirks at the low blow. Any other time, Obi-Wan would be insulted. Now, he just feels the truth of it echo in his mind. 

“It wasn’t by choice. My connection was severed when Anakin died. I have yet to regain it.” Maul hums, pacing back and forth. 

“Grief, then,” he surmises. Obi-Wan doesn’t answer. “Of all people, Kenobi, I’d expect you to be _joyous_. The war is over, the Sith have lost, and your Order remains intact.” Obi-Wan once again contemplates why he came here to begin with. 

“I suppose you have won as well, then,” snaps Obi-wan. “Your Master’s plans have failed, Mandalore has been reclaimed, your brother is dead, and you are the only Sith left standing. So tell me... are you feeling _joyous_?” Maul’s irritation simmers to a boil. He turns on his heels and points furiously in the Jedi’s face.

“How dare you?” he rages. “You will _pay_ for your insolence.” Ignoring his rant entirely, Obi-Wan walks towards the corner Maul once occupied.

“How did your brother die anyway?” The question silences him instantly. Whatever fury overtook him moments before dissipates into a flat, cold gaze. It’s hard to meet his eyes; they are ablaze, yet seem as though they could freeze him in carbonite at a whim. The dichotomy of it catches him off guard and for a brief time, words elude Obi-Wan.

“Savage was murdered by Sidious after you left Mandalore. He imprisoned me here… then, I escaped.” _And you know the rest_ went unspoken. Maul’s voice laces itself with the snow outside, fleeting and cold. “At least I’m not suspended.” He distances himself, body shifting towards more outward displays of insecurity. A pang in the Force echoes from him, darkness from decades of suffering spreading throughout the cell. Obi-Wan is unsure of how to respond; on some level, he can understand it. Anakin’s death has brought him many feelings he cannot begin to unravel. Questions, regrets, and loss all change people. It would be naive to assume a Sith would be immune to it. Maul refuses to meet his eye, turning his back to him. Suddenly, Obi-Wan regrets ever asking the question at all.

“I— I am sorry for your loss,” says Obi-Wan. Maul’s body almost flinches at his words. When he remains quiet, his stance still and rigid, he continues. “It was wrong of me to be so brash.” In the quiet lapse that follows, Obi-Wan listens to Maul’s breathing. He swears he hears him shudder.

“You have changed, Kenobi,” he mutters. There is a notable softness to his tone, a jarring distinction from moments ago. His head swirls with the words to describe it. They catch in his throat and choke him mercilessly. For a few irrational moments, he thinks Maul might just _be_ choking him. But the Force has no push or pull to prove it. The fault falls upon himself and his own instability. He wants to hear him do it again… whatever _it_ is. It brings him— _Force_ , help him— comfort. Whatever overtook Maul, he seems to recognize. He raises a hand to pinch (presumably) at his nose.

“You’re quite right,” he murmurs. Maul inclines his head towards him slightly, as if to acknowledge him. Obi-Wan wets his bottom lip and anxiously wonders if silence is the only thing that can prevail past this point. Has the conversation begun or ended? His question is answered quicker than he expects.

“If you must continue to pester me” — Maul turns to face Obi-Wan, expression distant — “I would like to meditate.”

“Would you prefer I left?” he asks. In any other context, this would have been taunting. But here and now, it seems more like careful treading than anything else. Obi-Wan doesn’t want to upset him further by stepping over boundaries. Yet, Maul doesn’t feel angry. His temperament is more akin to the last raindrops after a thunderstorm; they petter out to dull vexation, with no sharpness or strength. 

“No,” he answers. As if Obi-Wan’s disbelief wasn’t enough, Maul adds, “Stay.” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t dare defy him. He simply stands and observes him in silence. His mind doesn’t wander. Maul continues, unaffected by his presence. He sits— legs crossed and arms laid against them— and hovers above the ground. Inhaling sharply, he exhales slowly. 

Amongst the Jedi, archives kept on the Sith were rarely taught. Anyone who sought them out was quickly reprimanded and hushed. Their ways were as foreign to Obi-Wan as a krayt dragon to Coruscant. 

Curious, he watches the twitches of Maul’s face and the darting eye movement beneath his eyelids. He humorlessly wonders how he must look gazing at him. The thought is fleeting; he doesn’t bother hiding the fascination on his face.

“Spit it out, Kenobi,” Maul commands. “You have questions.”

“Jedi meditate, but I’ve never known Sith to do it. What is the purpose of it?” He ventures Maul might find the comparison grating, but he doesn’t make his opinion known either way. Instead, he sticks to informing Obi-Wan.

“Sith find power in our emotions. In meditation, they channel the strongest emotions— anger, fear, hatred— to the surface and weaponize them against their opponents.” 

“What purpose do _you_ find in it?” Obi-Wan asks. “What do you channel?” Maul’s fiery eyes open and pin him in place. He cannot help but feel trapped in the flames of them, unable to divert his attention anywhere else. Their heat should burn and singe him.

“I find the practice useful for arranging my thoughts. I do not use it to heighten my power. My emotions are already ready at my disposal.” Obi-Wan smiles carelessly.

“That is not far from Jedi meditation.” Maul rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“The ways of your corrupted Order do not influence my connection to the Force or how I wield it.” Obi-Wan’s smile lingers softly while he hums.

“ _Ah_ , of course.” Maul hovers down, uncrosses his legs, and plants his mechanical feet firmly with a _clank_.

“The Jedi have held power for too long. Even you must realize that,” he reasons. Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrow as he strokes his beard.

“Then, you believe there should be a balance between the two? Redistribution of power?” Maul nods, hands behind his back.

“Precisely, Kenobi. Sidious’ reign would have restored balance in the Force and the galaxy. His death will only create someone far greater and far worse to complete what he started.” Obi-Wan inwardly shudders at the thought. Then, it occurs to him.

“You?” A flare from the flames of his gaze. Obi-Wan finds he wants to stoke it. Maul grits his sharpened teeth and tightens the grip of his hands.

“No,” he seethes. Bitterness flows in a stream of emotions Obi-Wan cannot begin to keep up with. “I am no Sith.”

“No? Why is that?” His hands fall from his back to his sides. Clenching his newly formed fists into tight balls, his nails dig into the skin of his palms.

“I possess qualities that Sith do not have. I failed my master, failed my apprentice, and now I am conversing with a Jedi with no intention of harm. I do not see how I could be a Sith. It would be a foolish denial to believe I am.” Obi-Wan wraps his mind around the concept with uneasy similarity. Replace a few words and events and it’d be the same sorry story. The irony doesn’t elude him. However, bringing it to Maul’s attention seems pointless. He does not wish to dwell on his own misery. He came here to avoid that. Another part of his confession grabs his focus. A smirk spreads wide across his face. Maul in mild horror grows still. “ _What_?”

“‘No intention of harm’…” Obi-Wan repeats. Maul groans and drags a hand across his face in exasperation.

“You are _insufferable_ ,” he mumbles. 

“I am glad you do not wish to kill me at the moment. It is rather thoughtful actually—”

“Do not tempt me.” 

“Do tell… what would be your method of murder?” asks Obi-Wan, playful. The corners of Maul’s lip turn upward ever so slightly.

“Choking.” Obi-Wan’s eyes widen and, in a moment of terror, he wonders if the Sith has been reading his mind. In the very next second, that realization becomes irrational and his happenstance murder scenario becomes too much. A peal of laughter rumbles and echoes throughout the cell. It doesn’t belong there, yet— as it reaches to both of them— no one finds it out of place. The chilled room is filled with warmth. The sound fills the dark walls with light. And for just a brief moment in Obi-Wan’s heavy, empty, and hollow void he finds reprieve. It’s the first time he has laughed since Anakin died.

Maul is confused but doesn’t hide his amusement. 

“What is so funny, Kenobi?”

“You— ah, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Is that so?” Maul crosses his arms. “Try me, Jedi.” Obi-Wan’s laughter dies down. Once again, he is ensnared in the fiery gaze. Words refuse to find their way into his mind or onto his tongue. Maul is choking him and he never registered it. “Patience is not one of my virtues. Do not play games with me.”

“I— I don’t—” Obi-Wan struggles to form anything coherent. The minimal light shrouds Maul in shadow, giving his eyes an almost iridescent quality. He can’t quite place how this makes him feel or what the feeling really is. It’s unlike anything he has ever felt before. “I don’t know.” Maul sighs in frustration.

“I will not be _mocked_ , Kenobi.”

“Earlier, it felt as though—” He stops before he can finish. Maul’s tension loosens and is replaced with genuine intrigue.

“What? It felt as—”

“As if you were choking me,” Obi-Wan mutters. Silence occupies the cell, with only their hushed breath and the buzz of the plasma barrier filling the space. Maul appears perplexed; his narrowed eyes hone in on Obi-Wan and scrutinize him.

“I did no such thing—”

“Yes, I know” — Obi-Wan steps to Maul’s side — “I just thought it for a moment.” _When I couldn’t speak_ feels unnecessary for him to add. It wouldn’t change the anxiety brimming just beneath his skin, heating his face and flushing his skin an unpleasant red.

“You are a most infuriating mystery, Jedi.” It holds no heat and his tone is gentle, chastising rather than biting. It is the same softness that left him speechless. Obi-Wan has done it once more without even trying… and he still wants to do it again. A smirk accompanies Maul’s words. Whatever the feeling is that he feels right now,— that makes his mind settle and his thoughts refrain from reminding him of his short sided-ness, his failings, and his loss— he desperately wants to hold onto. Anakin’s cries of anguish do not haunt him here. His memories of war do not plague him either. All he can feel is _warmth_ and comfortable emotion. 

“I pray you may never reveal me, Maul.” The former Sith hums lowly.

“ _Most_ infuriating, indeed.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to leave, not yet. He doesn’t want this to end. But, there is nowhere else he can think to go with it either. If Maul wants him to stay, he does not protest when Obi-Wan makes his way to the plasma barrier. He nods his head briefly, eyes glowing in the dimness. The barrier vanishes and clears an exit for Obi-Wan. He stands in the doorway, staring back at Maul with unrelenting intensity. He thinks of the brisk cold that is sure to greet him outside the Spire. Briefly, he ponders whether the fire in his eyes could keep him warm. Obi-Wan smiles at the absurdity of it, the result of it reaching the crow’s feet beside his eyes. 

“Happy Life Day, Maul.” Then, he turns and passes through the doorway.

Inexplicably, Maul finds himself choked for words.

Outside, it is just as freezing as he predicted. Obi-Wan struggles to retread his path back to his starship. His boots crunch the hardened snow beneath. He just knows Arthree will have something snarky to say about how long he has taken. Ahsoka and Rex are expecting a holo soon, too; none of these things bring him the same fretfulness that they did before he came here. Yet, the whirling of the frosted wind brings him peace rather than intrusive thoughts. Anakin’s memory does not come unbidden. He finds tranquility in this and reaches out his hand. The Force, for the first time in weeks, greets him. It guides his path forward in the snowstorm, leading him towards the ship. 

Obi-Wan knows this is bizarre,— beyond understanding, _truly_ — but there isn’t anyone he has to explain it to.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a series so stay tuned! Thanks for reading, commenting, and kudos!


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